Around November 2018, I was on my way to a job interview in Asaba, dressed in one of my favourite shirts and wearing a nice perfume. I had sat in the bus for sometime when another woman was picked. She was fat and had occupied a lot of space. When she tried sitting beside me, half of her body was literally sitting on top of me.
Normally, I don’t like making people feel bad about their size, looks and all of that. I politely told her she was discomforting me and even offered to go to another seat. She looked at me from head to toe, it was as if I had sparked a wave of hidden raging anger in her and she took it up from there.
I wouldn’t be able to write a transcript of all she said but she said so many miserable things and eventually started insulting my mother of her imaginations with unprintable names
“Look at you! I am I your mate? Aren’t you the son of a prostitute! I am sure that your prostitute of a mother is somewhere in the village suffering while you are here claiming big! Are you not an idiot? Weren’t you born out of wedlock?… Your mother conceived you in a brothel, I am sure of that…”
She didn’t stop.
As we drove from Upper Iweka to Toll Gate Asaba, this woman was raining abuses. I had wanted to respond but then I thought I shouldn’t bring myself down to her level, I shouldn’t even engage her or try defending my mother.
What I did was try coming down the bus entirely but the driver offered me seat somewhere else and I moved while she continued.
She doesn’t know my mother, my mother doesn’t fit the description in her imagination. If I had started throwing tantrums, it means I am afraid of what she had said. I never told my mother this story till date and I never discussed it with anybody.
Meanwhile, I have a father who is still alive, a father who boldly told me in isolation that he married my mother a virgin. My mother doesn’t live in the village and in fact, when things get so tough I still call mum to help! I have a mother who would want me to come home and pack foodstuffs when I run out of it.
I shouldn’t reduce myself to her level and therefore I decided to keep my cool. I was raging inside of me, I would always want to lose my cool but something in me was holding me back.
While some of the passengers were trying to calm her down, others were quiet. When we got to Toll Gate and she got down the bus, the passengers started praising me while some said I should have beaten the hell out of her.
Looking back, I am glad I didn’t throw verbal punches in return and if I did, the Holy Spirit may have rebuked me. I remember early the same year, I was on my way from Uli to Onitsha when I got into a misunderstanding with a driver. He was owing me balance and wanted to claim it. When we started exchanging words, he called me and my parents fools. I responded in the same manner.
After I got home to Nkpor, I couldn’t rest. My spirit continued to disturb me till I went back to TRACAS at Upper Iweka to look for him and apologise. When I apologised, he was very surprised and he also started feeling guilty about the whole thing.
The truth is that we are different! Others may throw a punch for a punch and feel cool, a believer especially someone who has a serious relationship with God will not throw a punch and remain comfortable with it.
I didn’t have to tell my story, it shouldn’t seem as if I am trying to capitalise on my strength to judge the weakness of another. No, I am only trying to say that if we are believers in Christ, our conducts are different, our disposition is different.
If we say we are followers of Jesus, then let’s truly follow Jesus. The big thing is that we aren’t just following Jesus, the Spirit of Jesus is in us, we have the mind of Christ and we can live like him. When we derail, we should be humble enough to repent of it and retrace our steps.