Well, I guess human beings are the same - in terms of body functions or malfunctions, as the case may be - whether they can afford to travel by air or just by road. I had two smelly chance encounters recently that aptly illustrate this assertion.
The first is something I would love to forget but, alas, I cant due to the disorienting force with which it assaulted my smell buds, lodging in my subconscious mind permanently.
I flew into Lagos, from Yola, for a weekend teaching engagement. I also used the time to huddle with my family. Monday morning saw me in the local wing of Murtala Mohammed International Airport, Ikeja, to catch a flight back to Yola for an important appointment. It was tight and, unfortunately, I missed the only flight out of Lagos going to Yola in the North East that day. The famous early morning Lagos traffic jam was to blame for my arriving late. The only alternative was to catch another flight to Abuja, the beautiful capital city, and connect another flight to Yola.
So, I booked a seat on a Dana Air plane, checked-in and waited in the roomy departure lounge of MMA2 for my flight to be called. About 45 minutes later the flight was called and I joined other passengers on queue to go through documentation and security. Then I walked down to gate 8 and boarded the Apron Bus that would take us to the airplane.
In the bus, I noticed an elderly man. He was dressed in typical South Western dress and spoke, to no one in particular, in Yoruba. His clothes looked neat but his teeth appeared coated with deposits of smoke and palm wine. He looked to me like someone who enjoyed the "good life" but did not care much for oral and personal hygien.
I boarded the plane and took my seat, on the left aisle, before the old man. A dignified lady, dressed in embroidered lace material, occupied the window seat on my row. A sweet scent, gentle and graceful, hung around her. It must be one of those expensive designer brands. I like it when people smell nice. The seat between us was empty.
A classy youngman, a Banky-W look-a-like, wearing designer denims and sweat shirt and a 50cent-type face cap, complemented with a loud masculine scent, sat on the aisle seat on my right. He paid no mind to no one as he nodded to some music fed into his brain by a flashy aerpiece connected to a fancy handset - one of three on him.
As I sat there and watched other passengers justling for their assigned seats, a handsome halfcast walked pass me and took the seat directly behind me. He answered a call briefly, speaking in good English, with a Nigerian accent. Then the elderly man shambled along, struggling with his carry-on and mumbling incoherently to no one in particular. He walked pass me and, in all honesty, he smelled like he had not taken bath for days. He raised his bag and deposited it in the overhead cabin and then asked the halfcast to let him in. The handsome man complied and the old man took his seat by the window.
We were soon airborne, devouring the air miles toward Abuja. The old man promptly fell asleep and then the farting game began. In the depth of his slumber he must have dreamt of visiting the loo to answer the call of nature: he released the first farty installment in a series of three. Oh boy, was it bad?! It jolted me out of my deep meditation - something I do alot when I travel - back into my senses and involuntarily forced my eyes open. It defied the airconditioning as it tormentingly and heavily hung on the air, refusing to budge even an inch.
Boy, this thing bad o! The blood of Jesus!
This fart must be made up of a unigue molecular structure, a cross breed of some of the baddest farts, that conferred on it some special aggressive defiance. It stirred my guts and gave me instant headache. I would bet a million Naira that, if there was a standard measure for smelly farts, this one would score ten on a scale of one to ten!
The lady beside me quickly brought out a hand fan from her handbag and briskly fanned herself, with an expression of disgust on her face, to no avail. She looked like she was going to faint. She bent her head forward and pulled the neck of her dress over her nose, burying it in the cup of her breasts. You could tell that she was in serious torment. Such a fine lady should never be put through such disgusting pain.
The Banky-W look-a-like acted like he was stung by a bee. He jerked abruptly and looked around as if to find the rascally bee. He pulled off the earpiece in an attempt to ascertain the nature of the intruding disturbance. He then pulled out the safety manual from the seat pocket in front of him and fanned himself vigoriously. I could not help but say in my mind:
"So, even this dandy swaggerd, who could not care a hoot who sat beside him, minded the rude assault on the peace of his nostrils?"
It was funny, but I could not laugh, being a co-sufferer in the fartuous misadventure.
Fifteen minutes later, still sleeping, the old man released the second fartuous installment. This too bad o! You can imagine the reaction from all of us who had the misfortune of sharing proximity with the sleeping old man. The handsome halfcast got up and changed seat, tracing the sign of the cross over his face and shoulders. It was that bad!
A few minutes later, the third installment arrived. Gush! By this time, I was agonizingly praying for the plane to land and bring an end to this airborne tribulation. Boy, man suffer o!
Mercifully, the plane touched down without further farty installments. When the pilot engaged the reverse thrust to slow down the plane on the runway, the loud noise and increased vibrations woke the old man up. He streched and innocently asked if we had landed in Abuja. He was completely unaware of the trouble he had caused! Sokushipe!
My second fartuous encounter was almost as bad as the first one. The main difference is that this one was at ground level, in a bus as we traversed the distance between Numan and Jos, and not at 35, 000 feet above sea level. I was on my way to Jos to deliver a lecture at the inauguration and swearing-in ceremony of the new exco of the Pene Da Bwatiye, Jos branch. Since I was travelling alone, I decided to go by public trasportation to stay within budget.
I sat by the door in the front of the bus along with the driver on the other side. A middle aged man sat in the middle front seat. He looked neat and well-kempt, with eye-salve tracing his eyes and giving him a feminine look. He smelled heavily of the Binta Sudan-type cologne. He had a tendency to argumentatively dominate every conversation. He seemed to have a ready answer for every topic and cared next to nothing whether his opinion was factual or not. All that mattered was that he had the opinion and everybody else must fall in line. When he adjudged that I was the "acada" type, he made it a duty to carpet me at every topic. I was getting nowhere with superior logic and, not wanting to get down into the gutter just to prove a point to this obnoxious stranger, I admonished myself to shut up and work my mind on the tricky topic I was travelling to tackle. He kept up his "intelligent" social commentary with the longsuffering driver. Well, I thought to myself, at least his diatribe will serve to keep the driver awake and alert!
Before we got to Kaltungo, Mr. Cicero slept off, leaving me and the driver to our thoughts. Then the farting series began. The first one was silent and stealthy, but what it lacked in sound, it made up for in smelly fury. It was revoltingly pungent and had an oppressive urgency to it, so much so that, without conferring with each other, the driver and I grapped our various winders and rolled down our glasses almost simultaneuosly, to let in fresh air and repel the nasal assault! The glasses stayed down, despite the thick Harmattan, untill we got to Alkaleri, through Kashere, and our man woke up at the Military Check Point. He promptly resumed his "smart" monologue as he offered solutions to all the problems of Nigeria. I came to appreciate his empty talk more than his eventful sleep with the resultant loaded fartuous discharges.
Those are the two life-changing smelly farty experiences that I had recently. They taught me that humans are the same - at least in terms of their body functions or, rather, malfunctions - whether they can afford to travel by air or just by road.
What is that smell? Eh?
😜😜😜😂😂😂😎😎😎👍👍👍
I remain Agoso Bamaiyi, your friend for a greater Nigeria and the best things of life.
#Agosotó
#DrArnobb
#SmellyFarts
#NigeriaGoBetter
#LaughterIsGoodForHealth
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