The new train
By Foluso Adelaja
Face mask is de rigueur at Wole Soyinka Station of the new railway that is now the fad of cultured travellers going from Ibadan to Lagos or vice versa. The new normal is the vogue here, no face mask, no entrance into the railway foyer. No tantrum will make the bouncer standing like the Rock of Gibraltar at the entrance into the Departure Lounge of the Abeokuta Station bulge. Only the gate of Central Bank compares in tenacity.
My law abiding travelling companion, Otunba Ganiyu Balogun, affectionately called Tarzan by his friends, the Chief Executive of Gani Tarzan Marine Enterprises in Sandfilled, Ikoyi, Lagos made no trouble putting on his own face mask. His pliancy instantly quenched my rebellious spirit, I had to search my bag for one and put it on too.
Otunba Ganiyu Balogun
We were then allowed to enter the palatial chamber that serves as the Waiting Room or the Departure Lounge of the railway for intending passengers. The hall was well ordered and neat, a clear departure from the Nigerian Railway of yore. The ambience at the station was so genteel, a silent testimony to Rotimi Amaechi’s potency. Amaechi, the then Minister of Transport, before he dared to become the presidential candidate of his party, the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) was the tool of President Muhammadu Buhari to bring about this brand new railway. I cannot but say kudos. By the satisfied look of my fellow passengers in the hall, I knew we could dare to dream of a better tomorrow.
The entrance of the premises of the New railway.
The pristine look of everything about this new railway is reminiscent and compares only with the lounges of foreign airlines at airports abroad. Even the food vendor who came to us while waiting in the lobby to ply what she called “Native Rice” was so chic about it. She did it sotto voce. It took our prompts to raise the decibels and still, we had to strain our ears a little. She pleaded though that she had to moderate her voice thus on the order of the railway authority.
Yours truly in the waiting lobby of the railway awaiting departure
Nevertheless, we ordered for the menu despite her steep price of N2,000 a piece which is the same price as the ticket of the railway per passenger from Abeokuta to Lagos. Not many could buy. Imagine spending the same amount as one’s flight ticket from Lagos to London at the airport’s restaurant before take-off! Isn’t it amusing?
But thank God, just in the nicķ of time, we were saved from the food vendor’s ponzi scheme as we were ordered to leave the Waiting Hall for the train which had just arrived. So, she lost our patronage and she was miserable. As I looked at her forlorn demeanour when she saw us leaving without the food, I did not know who was sadder, I or she. I was unhappy because I could not have a taste of her native rice delicacy. I have never had one before but Tarzan testified to the sumptuousnes of the exotic menu.
He should know anyway! Tarzan is a water transporter cum tourism practitioner, hence a cultivated traveller and a die-hard gourmet.
In the train, a fight was waiting for us to come aboard. A young man we thought vexatious was already on Seat No. 58 which was assigned to Tarzan, and I, Seat No 59 at the ticket counter- and he refused to leave. We would have none of this nonsense and so a confrontation ensued. But we discovered before the argument degenerated into a brawl that we were wrong.
Otunba Ganiyu Balogun a.k.a Tarzan in the waiting lobby
The seat numbering was a scam all along. The railway authority did not meant it to be adhered to. It was a mere facade to appear organised. Right from Ibadan where the train was coming from, seat numbers were not ascribed to any passenger, they all sat according to their whims in the commodious cabins which could sit over 80 passengers apiece.
Since the railway engine has about ten cabins to pull at each journey, there are enough seats for the passengers who barely number half of the total capacity of the train. But I and Tarzan could not now begin to insist on re-organising the seating arrangement to conform to alloted seat numbers. We had no other option than to join the bedlam and sat anyhow and so, we lost the chance of seating next to each other. Tarzan sat on the row of seat by the right. We were divided by the aisle. So, we could not banter through the journey as we wish to do.
Interior of the cabin.
The train which was coming from Obafemi Awolowo Station in Ibadan and heading to Asiwaju Tinubu Station, it’s terminus in Lagos finally departed Wole Soyinka Station at Abeokuta by 9.10am. The train was late in departing Abeokuta, observed Tarzan, an habitual patron who is trying to proselyte me.
“The train has probably began to loose it’s promptitude”,he noted.
The electric contraption piqued me the moment it commenced it’s journey. Its speed was so annoyingly slow, or so I thought. It was crawling along as if we were just going around the corner. Even its make-believe once a year cousins which mirthfully carry kids from just about ten yards to the Santa Clauses grotto is faster.
It maintained this slow pace through out the journey which made me wondered aloud that even if I had walked part of the way, I probably would have outpaced the tram’s snail speed. This my unfettered observation amused Tarzan not a little as he told me playfully to jump down and run along?
But to my surprise, I discovered that I need not scoff at the train’s snail speed which only seemed so to us inside its cabins. It was actually pulling its weight out there as it reached Babatunde Fashola Station, Agege in Lagos by a record time of 10:20 a.m., a journey of about an hour, given its brief stop at Funmilayo Ransome Kuti Station at Papa Lanto where a loquacious co-passenger informed me, unsolicited, that the train refuel here.
My fear about the train’s slow footedness now dispelled made me realised that I probably have not weaned myself off its locomotive predecessor which was of more noise, more ado about speed but no appreciable result when compared to this modern electric heir.
The brief train journey is a must for all lovers of nature who want to witness the gala of scenic views offered by southwest Nigeria’s verdant flora. The lush samples of fercund vegetation presented by the train journey would have been described as a running splash of green gold by that illustrious poet, J.P Clark, God bless his memory as he described Ibadan, the largest city in West Africa, in that his all-time great poem of the same name.
The undiluted fertile abundance waiting to be touched by civilization, which the train journey exposed is a testimony to our innate capability to redeem our nation from hunger any time, if we put our collective will to it.
The ride was not only thrillingly pleasurable but also luxurious as the cabins were well lighted with two rows of seats as in the economy class of an aircraft, two sitting to the left and three to the right. Unlike in aircraft however, its luggage racks on each side of the cabin were uncovered but spacious enough to contain avalanche of loads.
The air-conditioner in the cabins work luxuriantly and entertainment on board, offered by two unobtrusive small television screens attached to the roofs of each cabin is well appointed, though the voice of the television which was playing what looked like that medieval English classic, ‘Titanic’, was remitted.
Not that we missed the audio of the film though, since a woman rice merchant sitting right behind me was so irritatingly busy doing her business noisily over the phone throughout the train ride. She was enough an audio engagement not to add that of the television.
The railway authority almost perfected the aircraft semblance of the ride with the occasional announcement of where we had reached by a dashing female voice. What she failed to say, the electronic bulletin board in front of each cabin provided, in glaring red light writhing across its screen.
I knew we were in Lagos even before we reached Babatunde Fashola Station at Agege when the enchanting scenic views offered by the train journey rudely petered out. Streets cramped with houses and shanties brought the sudden realisation that we were nearing Lagos. Another incontestable telltale were the yellow buses stucked in long traffic queues on busy streets where human traffic jostled with vehicular traffic for use of the road.
Overcrowding, needless haste and busy-as-ever culture were incurable parts of the cosmopolitan lifestyles of Lagos. But, all these too are what make those of us in love with the city often come back all the time to Lagos, our Lagos.
I and Tarzan got down at Asiwaju Tinubu Station at Alagomeji, Lagos and took the decelerator down to the basement to join our other citymates who were already about their hustles this morning. We took the popular Lagos motorbikes a.k.a Okada which ran at breath taking speed and against the traffic, to where we could eat amala with gbegiri and ewedu. The amala dish was worth every kobo of its 800 Naira cost and I thank my star it was not native rice.
Arrival in Lagos to mingle and get lost among its bustling crowd
