26/08/2025
419 MOTOR TO PORT-HARCOURT‼️
That was the number boldly written on my ticket from Calabar to Port Harcourt. I laughed at first, but I didn’t know the journey was about to become a movie.
We left Calabar around 2pm. The driver was rough and rude at first, so the passengers turned on him — every small mistake, they would attack him. At Odukpani, he stopped to fix his car, wasting more time. From 4pm to 7pm, we were trapped in Odukpani traffic, crawling slowly. I was just shaking my head🤦♀️
By the outskirts of Akwa Ibom, a lady with ulcer kept pleading for food. The driver initially refused, saying he doesn’t stop by the roadside at night. She kept insisting until he stopped. We all alighted to buy things — I even bought 4 eggs. That was when a young man appeared and started harassing the driver, demanding money.
He climbed the bonnet, shone a torch in the driver’s face, then blocked his tyre with a stone. When the driver tried to move, the man smashed the back glass of the car with a huge stone and I screamed! 😱
The villagers stood by watching him as he bolted into a bush-track in the dark, when he saw the driver reversing towards him.
The whole place scattered!
Passengers were shouting, villagers gathered quickly—just excited for gist. We asked them the man’s name, and suddenly everybody started pretending. One woman accidentally mentioned a nickname, but when we asked her to repeat it, she quickly hid in the crowd.
That was when I realized: these people know him very well. They know he steals, they know he does drugs, they know he harasses travelers. But they refused to expose him. They would rather protect the troublemaker than help strangers get justice💔
We spent another one hour there before leaving. The driver was bitter until we got to Abia state, he was blaming the ulcer lady: “Now they’ve broken my glass, the ulcer no kill you.” I actually felt bad. At that point, I wrote a small note and passed it to the ladies behind me: Let’s contribute something for him — not out of force, but compassion🤍
I asked the driver for his account number. He was shocked, almost in tears. I transferred first, then announced it so others could join. Before long, he had received more than half the cost of the damaged glass.
Funny enough, this same driver once threatened to break my phone earlier in the trip when he saw me vlogging. He never imagined I’d still be the same person to rally help for him.
By the time we finally got to Port Harcourt at midnight, he was a completely different man. He called vehicles for those going further and even dropped people whose destinations were close, thanking us over and over😊
Written by Anabella Ita