People sit in a bus and pray to God for safety throughout the journey. They sit, do the sign of the cross and whisper a prayer to God to be the driver and carry them through. It makes sense because in Ghana God is our safety. When I sit on a bus, I pray that the person who will sit next to me should be a beautiful woman. I’ve come to believe that I would meet my wife on a bus, hence that prayer.
She’ll sit next to me and we’ll have a long conversation until we reach our destination. Before she gets down, I’ll ask her, “Can I have your number?” She’ll take my phone and dial her number. From there, we’ll fall in love and get married.
That’s the dream so that night when I picked a bus from Accra to Kumasi, I put a bag on the seat next to me. That way, I would have the power to select who sits next to me. An old man approached and asked if someone was sitting there. I nodded my head and he walked away. A lady came. She didn’t look like my future wife so I said someone was sitting there.
They kept coming but I was resolute until I saw this beautiful lady approaching. Immediately I saw her, I removed the bag. She saw me doing it so she asked if the seat was taken. I smiled and shook my head. She sat down and the fragrance on her skin greeted me. When she was going down to buy something, she asked me to watch over her things and I gladly accepted.
She came to sit down and later, the bus moved. It was around 10 p.m. Immediately the bus moved, she leaned backwards and closed her eyes. I was watching her every move, waiting for the right moment to initiate a conversation. When she closed her eyes, she didn’t open them again until I saw her dozing off.
She would hit her head against my shoulder, open her eyes for a second, say sorry and sleep again. It happened more than thrice so I told her, “Why don’t you put your head on my shoulder and feel comfortable?” She opened her eyes and smiled. I insisted but she was too shy to do it. She was no longer sleeping so I used the opportunity to launch a conversation.
She told me she was a student and was attending a friend’s wedding in Kumasi. I asked, “Do you mind if I go with you? I have nothing to do tomorrow morning and I would be happy to go with you.” She was smiling and thinking I wasn’t serious. I insisted. She asked, “Are you serious? You don’t even know whose wedding it is.” I responded, “I don’t know whose wedding it is but I know you. Isn’t that enough?”
I didn’t even know her name but the vibe was great. I asked her name and she said Adobea. There was a movie on the screen. We watched and discussed it. When someone snored on the bus, she tapped me and we laughed about it.
She got down at Linda Dor and asked me to watch over her things. I said, “Buy me a drink for turning me into your security.” She came with a can of malt and kebab. She said, “Here you are.” She was standing in the bus so the tiny lights in the bus were shining on her forehead while casting her whole body into a silhouette. I said in my head, “God, let this be the one. Even if she has a bad character, I’ll manage it.”
We ate together as if we were old friends travelling together. There was some easiness about her, this breeze that pulls you in and says “Hug her.” I wanted to but it was too soon.
When she felt sleepy again, she asked, “Can I put my head on your shoulder now?” I answered, “Oh feel free. What’s the use of a shoulder if it can’t accommodate a beautiful head like yours?” Well, I didn’t say all that to her but my actions were louder. She put her head there and I stiffened up my shoulder. I didn’t want her head to fall off so when she moved left, my shoulder followed. Her head got heavier. I was in pain for being in one position for several minutes but the joy of her head on my shoulder compensated for the pain.
Along the way, I started dozing off too so I gently leaned my head closer to hers. I could feel her breathing. Even when I was sleeping, I moved my shoulder to wherever her head moved so I don’t lose it. It was like that until she woke up again and asked if I was sleeping. In my dreams, she was wearing my wedding ring but in reality, I was thinking of how to make her mine.
I asked her, “How about the wedding? Are you going with me?” She answered, “If you’re serious, then why not?”
We both got down at the last stop and I helped her get a taxi. She gave me her number and said, “Call me tomorrow morning when you’re coming.” I stood there and watched the taxi move so I could wave. I screamed, “See you very soon, Adobea.” She waved back.
I went home smiling like I’d won a bet. I ironed my stuff, took my bath and set my alarm at 6 a.m. I didn’t want to oversleep and miss the opportunity to meet Adobea again.
In the morning I called. Her phone was off. When she was giving me the number she told me her phone might go off because it was on low battery. I figured she hadn’t charged her phone so I dressed up and set off to the venue of the wedding.
I got to the premises and there was nothing happening there. “Or I got the name of the church wrong?” I called her phone again and again but it didn’t go through. I waited for over an hour but it didn’t look like anything was going to happen there. I concluded I got the venue wrong but why was her phone off?
After three days of constantly calling her number and not reaching her, I concluded that I was given the wrong number. “But why would she do that? I gave her a shoulder to lean on and she paid me back with the wrong number and a venue?”
I was disappointed. She gave me hope and she took it away with lies. She could have been honest with me because I was honest with her. I promised I wasn’t going to call her again but once in a while, I’d catch myself dialing her number, hoping it would go through. Hoping her tiny beautiful voice would come through the line and say, “I’m sorry for what happened. It wasn’t intentional.”
I will give a lot away for that to be true but as it stands now, everything looks bleak. She isn’t coming back, I know it but my heart doesn’t want to give up hope. I sit on a bus and she comes to mind. Her fragrance, her voice, the kebab she bought for me, the weight of her head on my shoulder, my shoulder getting numb, the final goodbye. Everything plays out in a reel like a movie directed by a bad director.
I’ve searched on Facebook for her using that one name she gave me. There are thousands of Adobeas but no one looks like her so I’m putting this story here. If you’re Adobea and took a bus from Accra to Kumasi in July and see yourself in this story, kindly look for me. Just leave your contact with Admin and I’ll get in touch. I’m not angry with you. The ways of love aren’t straight and the story of love usually gets crooked before it’s straightened up. Let’s straighten it up together.