He got to the park, hoping he would be the last passenger just before the bus moves. Amidst shouts of different destinations by the popular ‘agberos’, he finally located the bus going his way. He likes to sit in front with the driver, but this time around, his space had been taken. Seated to his left was a plump woman with her two-year old son.
While waiting for the other passengers, an endless stream of able-bodied beggars invaded the little quietness he could afford in the old stuffy bus. They spoke different languages and recited what sounded like beggars’ sonnets which was irritating to his ears. He was tempted to advise them to go and look for jobs and it took a lot of willpower to ignore them. He couldn’t wait for the journey to begin and finally, the last passenger walked briskly into the bus.
The driver shut the doors and the passengers were left stranded in the heat while the driver and his cohorts argued about the sharing formula for the inflated transport fares they gathered from the passengers.
The road to redemption

The road to redemption

The passengers were already getting agitated and the bus felt like an oven, taking him back in time to the stuffy chemistry lecture theatre popular called ‘oven’ during his days as an undergraduate. At long last, it was time to move. He breathed a sigh of relief and was prepared to enjoy the journey only for the driver to join the queue at a gas station about five minutes drive from the park. The mother beside him decided to buy several pieces of boiled egg from a vendor at the station and that was when he knew he wouldn’t enjoy the journey as he hated the smell of boiled egg.

As they joined other travellers on the expressway, he started to enjoy the fresh air and thought maybe the journey could be endured after all, but the woman pleaded that the breeze was too much for her son and he had to shut the window almost completely.  As if that was not enough, she chose exactly that moment to bring out a loaf of bread from her bag to go with the eggs she bought.
Two hours into the journey, his clothes were stained with crumbs of bread and egg and the imprint of the child’s dirty and wet hands. The mother said ‘uncle e ma binu si omo yin o’ (meaning don’t be angry with me) and in an inappropriate  attempt to dust the crumbs off his laps, she made everything worse. He began to wonder when the boy became his child.
Finally, the driver announced that he was at the last bus stop for whoever wanted to drop at the camp. He felt like he had worn the lottery, for he was finally at his destination. And as he stared across the road at the Redemption camp, he thought the journey had been worthwhile after all

In the journey of life, secular or spiritual, the road might not be as sweet and smooth as expected. The beginning can be rough, the journey itself can be frustrating with distractions and inconveniences. But one thing is sure; at the end, there is a sigh of relief and the joy of arrival at the destination. Wishing you safe journey and glorious landing in life’s journey.


I am Oluwaseto Oguntuase. 
A Pharmacist by profession and a writer and lover of books at heart. I just love a good story. I am a bit reserved but easy to approach. I don’t have it all figured out, but who does anyway? My mantra is ‘what will be will be’ so I take life one step at a time. I love writing about real life experiences and hope to become an accomplished writer in the nearest future.



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