<<Print>>

Travelling on public transport can be a combination of fun and boredom, fun only, boredom only or nothing at all. It all depends on the driver and his mate, and of course fellow passengers. When the driver�s mate has not taken a bath for two consecutive days and his holy armpit runs a faulty air-conditioned, the scent alone can cause a nuclear reaction. It is boredom to begin with. But imagine that this same mate decides to start the day with a chewing stick right in the bus while humming a Pentecostal tune, it can be a complete put-off. Exposing a set of uncomplimentary dental showpieces underlying the parapet of his muscular mandibles, the mate�s early morning dental routine can make you forget about breakfast. Whatever it is, he is still the mate and you�ll be required to hand over your fare to him. And he�d have to stretch and expose his armpit to your poor nose to collect the fare. And ye shall breathe in the well-preserved toxic waste. If you don�t vomit, then God is truly on your side. At any rate, that is your baptism of fire! The driver usually has his own palaver. Normally, he takes a cold bath in the morning but doesn�t comb his hair. He is most likely a believer in Bob Marley and the Jah Rastafari brotherhood. The music he plays in the 207 Benz Bus includes the highly rhythmic and syncopated renditions from the likes of albums like �Babylon by Bus�. Other tunes will naturally comprise �Rastaman Vibration� and �I shot the sheriff.� He knows the lyrics and hums or sings alongside the reggae maestro who begins the album with greetings from Haile Sellassie: �Greetings in the name of his majesty, his Imperial Majesty Emperor Haile Sellassie the First, Jah Rastafari, ever fearful�� It is good to listen to reggae music, but the driver thinks that the volume of music should suit his own circumstances without recourse to what the passengers would generally prefer. So he opens the volume into the hundreds of decibels and starts nodding his head like an agama lizard. Once in a while, he is carried away by a familiar beat and forgets he is driving. He stands up briefly and gets back to his seat, wriggling his waist to the rhythm, yearning for a �spliff� of the devil�s snuff to turn his head and darning the psychedelic music to blow his mind. Ministers and government functionaries probably saw a bit of these happenings on Public Transport Day last week. But they ain�t seen nothing yet. It should have been a Public Transport Month. That would have offered them the opportunity to witness more. On some of the buses are people who claim they are foot-soldiers of Jesus of Nazareth. They have been commissioned directly from heaven to save straying souls and bring them to the fold. And they must begin from the 33-seater bus in which you are a passenger. Naturally, Moslem passengers don�t like the idea when a man stands up to claim that Jesus is the savior. They are all the more incensed when the preacherman tells everybody to bow down his head for the opening prayer as the bus cruises on. You�ll find a man in batakari fuming and twitching his moustache. It means there is someone nearby guilty of imposing his faith on his Mohammedan beliefs. Usually, the Moslems do not insist on a rejoinder to the several claims an evangelist or perambulating preacherman makes. After all, there is freedom of religion and a speech and expression. But that notwithstanding, the Moslem will not tolerate any undue reference to the Koran and what it espouses. And any reference to Mohammed must be done with a �taflatse� pre-fixing the comment which must necessarily be positive and not negative. The name �Mohammed� is jealously guarded. Normally the preacher limits his message strictly to the Bible and intersperses the sermon with singing and clapping of hands in praise of God. You can be sure the sermon will be about adultery and fornication. �If you know you are planning to chase somebody�s wife,� he�d say pointedly, �beware of the hell-fire that patiently awaits you. If you know your eyes cause you to sin, pluck them off and save yourself from eternal damnation.� The sermon is usually short because the preacherman steps out of the bus at his designated stop, a herbalist stands up to replace him. It is his turn. He has brought to the �lucky� passengers the gospel according to good health. The earlier preacher brought the good news to the soul. �People are getting angrier and don�t know why,� he�d begin. �They think it is the school fees! Some think it is poverty! Some think it is poverty! It is not! Believe me ladies and gentleman, it is worms! You�re suffering from worms.� The herbalist will then proceed to describe the kinds of worms that afflict the human person. �Some are long, some are short. Some are tall, others are broad. Some have got beard, others have got moustache. If you send a child and he refuses to go, it doesn�t mean he is disobedient. The reason is that he has worms in his belly. Save that child! My name is Aboagye da Costa. In this bag, I have the remedy for 26 diseases! Count yourself lucky to have met me here today. Halleluja!� �Amen!�