“Berger, Ojota,” The driver bellowed in a voice that did not betray any hint of fatigue even though he had been driving for the past ten hours. He slowed down perceptibly as he pulled over the bus to facilitate his parking should any of the passengers want to alight at any of the bus stops. “Berger, Ojota,” he repeated. Inside the bus, human figures who had talked, laughed, slept and woken up; talked, laughed, slept and woken up again in a seemingly endless cycle of repetitions stirred. All, that is, except one woman who occupied the window seat three rows behind the driver. In a grudging motion of reluctant disengagement, two young people, a boy and a girl, clad in the National Youth Service Corps branded T-shirts, broke off the clandestine business they were conducting on the row behind me. . . A Long Haul from THE MATERNITY WARD AND OTHER STORIES ©2014 All rights reserved
Posted on: Tue, 23 Dec 2014 20:55:17 +0000
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