I left my CDS (Community Development Service) a while ago, and on this particular day, I passed through the Ministry route since I was heading to the Bodija/UI axis, Ibadan. That was when the memory of a bike man who had shown me love and care months earlier came rushing back.
It was January. I had left Soka with my aunt early that morning to cut costs, and I dropped off at Agodi (Ministry). Several bike men called out to me, and I briefly considered boarding one, but the thought crept in: “I can walk it, it’s not far.”
So I walked. And walked. And walked.
I watched bike men who had picked up passengers earlier zoom past me. Mind you, I was going all the way to Gate.
When exhaustion set in, I started blaming myself and considered flagging down a bike, but then another thought countered: “What if I’m almost there? Wouldn’t that just be burning money?”
I had been walking for about 30 minutes. I was tired. I was done hearing “Corper wee, waa” from every passing rider.
Then, out of nowhere, a middle-aged man pulled up beside me and told me to get on his bike. I told him I had no money. He said he knew.
That kind-hearted man carried me all the way and dropped me right in front of the NYSC Secretariat. He had passed me twice, noticed me trekking, and quietly decided to come back and help.
It reminded me that kind people still exist. Here was someone riding an okada just to make ends meet, and he still chose to give. That meant everything.
