By Babatetengi Abubakar
I left UDUS to celebrate my Sallah at Ambursa, a village in Kebbi State.
It was early hours of a Friday morning, the third day of sallah and I was ready to return back to campus. I packed my stuff in my bag as I set out for the village garage.
Unfortunately, on getting to the park, there was no bus traveling to Sokoto. It left me with no choice than having to wait by the roadside, Hands akimbo, just to wait for the motors that conveyed passengers from Birnin Kebbi to Sokoto. The wait lasted for about fifteen minutes.
I later got a bus. “Enter fast, I’m in a hurry,” the driver told me in Hausa language. The
instruction didn’t slack as I entered the bus as soon as I dropped my back in the car’s boot.
The journey to Sokoto began. We moved around after 12pm or so. I observed the driver was speeding at the pace of a 100 – 130 km / hour, when I asked why he sped that much, he made it know that he is determined to perform jummah (The Friday congregational prayer) In Sokoto but unfortunately, we met the Friday congregational prayer at a town before Sokoto called Bodinga.
We all came down for the prayer. After the prayer, I went to empty my bladder.
However, coming back to enter the motor, I couldn’t see the motor again. At first I thought I was misplacing where we packed and like a local boy lost between Oriole and Amukoko in Lagos, I continued searching for the motor. I searched every nook and cranny of the premises and realized the car is gone. Otilo.
Frustrated on what to do next, what comes to my mind was my bag that was inside the trunk, it contained my HP laptop, 27000mah power bank and some clothes. I was confused with, myriads of questions come to my mind like what do I do now? Who will I tell? After serious meditation, I was forced to enter another motor from Bodinga to Sokoto.
Asking the driver to alight me at Bafarawa motor pack so that I can report the incident to the National Union Of Road Transport Workers (N.U.R.T.W). Well I reported the incident but since I did not take the motor from the pack they told me it will be hard to trace,with this, I have lost hope of getting my bag back.
With the hopes of getting my valuable dashed, I took a bike from the pack to the school gate. On getting to the school I informed a friend about my ordeal and he advised me to go back to the pack and explain myself better. And most importantly give them my number.
Without thinking twice, I took a bike to go to the pack before a call entered my phone with a new number and he started speaking hausa and I told him “please I can’t understand what you are saying.” He asked in English, whether I was the one who owns the bag in his motor to which I responded “Yes I am the one he asked,” My thought was that he will ask me to come get it. But “where are you” was his next question of which I told him where I was and he came straight to the school gate to give me my load.
When asked about where he got my number from, he told me that he searched my bag and found my library ID card to which my number was inscribed and that was how he was able to contact me.