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The Passenger (Part Two) by Saddam Ninhor

Read the previous part here

The minions were getting rather impatient now. The clanging of swords in his stomach was proof beyond doubt that he needed food and fast. He put his book back into his backpack as he decided to get off the bus. He would get a quick meal before the journey begins, he thought to himself. Just as he was about to get off…

‘Sweet hot moi-moi.”

The voice was sweet. He stopped mid stride and sat back. It came again. Despite being loud, it was way too lovely. Infact, the louder, the better. He arched his head through the window in the direction of the voice. Oh my, he whispered. His jaws dropped open as she came into view. He wanted to call her but hesitated when he realized she was heading for the bus. Hee eyes werw darting side to side giving him time to study her front features. A woman in an adjacent bus whistled, drawing her attention. She strode to attend to her leaving her back view to his mercy. He cocked his head and relaxed gingerly in his seat. Who Danielle Steel epp? He asked himself. A wide grin spread across his face.

She had black and gold braids. They were long enough as she made a knot and still let a handful drop halfway down her back. Light skinned with brown pupils, she wore no makeup as there was no need. Sporting a fitted polo shirt that hugged her torso outlining her sumptuous bosom. She was probably wearing a fabric bra which explains why her nipples won the staring contest. The breasts seemed firm, scratch that, the breasts were firm. She had long straight legs that gave her stride and elegant a royal gait. Deliver me from evil thoughts, he prayed silently. Staring at her rounded buttocks pressed firmly against the skirt gave his minions a certain break from war. They had to be seeing this too as the hunger he was feeling was now long gone.

She turned and strode straight to him. He hadn’t even realized he’d called her in his trance state. “Good afternoon, sir,” she greeted politely.

“Good afternoon, nwanyioma. How you dey sell?” That twisted mentality that hawkers can’t do better than pidgin.

“The wrapped ones are fifty naira apiece. The ones in small plastic plates are hundred naira. The oned with egg are hundred and fifty naira.” She explained dutifully. His jaws dropped. What was she doing hawking moi-moi? She should be studying one professional course in one of the big universities. Father Lord!

“So, you won’t sell these for hundred naira?” He asked with feigned dis interest. Typical greedy nigerian, he smiled to himself. She laughed lightly. That warmed his heart.

“You want me and my family to starve?” She was still smiling. He engaged her in small talk, taking advantage of the fact that no one else in the bus seemed interested in buying. Two plastic plates of moi-moi, her contact and a promise to keep in touch settled him as the journey began several minutes. Her face and body and voice and fantasies kept him going as he enjoyed his brunch or lunch rather.

About an hour later…kwwwrrrrr…


Hey God!!!
This is not happening right now. No. No. No!!! This is wrong on so many levels. He forgot. He didn’t eat moi-moi. Not an allergy but it doesn’t just get along with his minions. That stomach upset came and fast. They were still two hours away from destination. He cried out to the driver.

“Oga, I no fit oo. No be tell you make you chop wetin go run your belle”, was the undaunted reply as he sped on. He persisted. Some concerned passengers joined whlie a few supported the driver although with reservations and pity in their voice.

nation, he told himself. Now he had a crazy story to tell when next they meet.


He maintained his squatted position and smiled as cool air hit his anus.

Read the previous part here.

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