Molue Experience

Someone once told me that you've not experienced Lagos is if you have not gone on a 'molue' drive. You do know the buses commonly called 'molue', the buses are bent to one side, their bodies are battered and rattered and they're more often than never, over-loaded.


Yes, i was priviledged to get into one. Its a long story. I followed my friend to Ojo on a beautiful Sunday morning. Being a family house, there was enough food and i'm ashamed to say it now but i binged, slept, ate again and ate some more. To my detriment.


I woke up at around 6pm, mumbled a few grateful 'thank you's' to my host and staggered on a very full tummy into the world.


Well to cut a long story short, there was no taxi in sight. It was late evening, i had to get home quick to avoid getting locked out and to also prepare for work the next day. Only then did i emerge out of my food induced dreamy world.


I started 'panicking'. I was chewing my nails. I cursed my self for allowing my greed to take full control of my thinking. I cursed my friend for having so much wonderful food to spare and i cursed the whole world for just being there.


My friend then suggested we use the big molue buses and before i could say 'no way dude', she had jumped (lagos style) into the nearest one which was moving of course. I had no choice but to stumble in after her (i almost lost my hair in the process).

There was no spare seat in the bus and no spare standing space for that matter. I had to hang unto the pole for dear life and pray that...just pray for a miracle, any miracle.

I was squeezed into a fat woman's underarm and ...oh dear!!! That is one experience i'm never going to go through again.

As for my friend? Thank God we're still friends.