Memoirs of a PH Cab Guy: When a ride became a rescue

By Ghanaman

I’ve been dealing with a streak of hard luck over the past few weeks. My car has been bleeding me financially, from one mechanical problem to another. The most recent was the steering rack.

It got so bad that it felt like driving one of those trucks used for transporting sand. I had no option but to change it. My mechanic, Engineer Ford, took over ₦200k to buy a new one and rectify the issue.

In the final week of December, my plan was to cash out and recover some of the funds I had spent. Instead, I ended up saving a girl’s life.

After descending the Obiri-Ikwerre Flyover heading towards Rumuokoro on Friday night, I forgot I was still online at about 2 a.m. I was already sleepy and in no mood to continue. I don’t usually fight that urge whenever it comes, as nature always wins.

The order came in from Rumuokoro Park, with the destination set for Abonema Wharf. I accepted anyway, spoke with the client, and stepped on the pedal to get to him faster. He was already standing by the gate.

As he approached the car, I noticed he was huge and well-built, a Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson kind of huge. A lady was also standing behind him, but he left her there, and it didn’t look like they were together.

So, we drove off, leaving her behind.

We hadn’t even reached the junction by Ikwerre Road before I started having a bad feeling about it. As I turned right onto Ikwerre Road, I slowed down and asked my client about the lady.

He explained that they both boarded the same bus that dropped them there and had been unsuccessful in getting another ride. He said he tried making small talk with her, but she was “forming” and ignored him rudely.

I told him plainly that leaving her alone there was dangerous. Rumuokoro isn’t the kind of place a young lady should be standing alone at midnight. I appealed to him that we should go back, pick her up, and at least drop her somewhere safer before heading to Abonema Wharf.

We had almost crossed FGC School when I hit the brakes, reversed, took one-way back onto the other lane, sped down to the flyover, and then one-way again back to the park.

Just as I feared, packs of wolves were already circling.

Four boys were closing in on her as my headlamps flashed in their direction.

Afraid sef catch me, I won’t lie. But the way my client jumped out of the car and spoke in a deep voice towards them, a helmet in hand did the magic. Just looking at his size, the boys scampered in different directions.

The girl was already terrified and seemed resigned to her fate. My guy helped her with her luggage, and we brought her into the car. She was too shaken to speak at first. When she finally did, her story came out in bits.

She had come from Benin to see a guy in Port Harcourt, but his number hadn’t been connecting. It was her first time in the city, and she didn’t know where to go or what to do.

An idea struck me.

I drove to JackBina Filling Station at Rumuokwuta and found my favourite attendant, Precious, on duty. I explained the girl’s situation to her and asked if she could stay there until she reconnected with the guy or figured out a better option. At least, she’d be safe within the premises. Precious agreed, and we left her there.

My client was relieved that we had gone back when we did. From all indications, it was his presence and imposing frame that had kept those rascals at bay earlier. The moment he left, they saw their opening.

If we hadn’t turned back when we did, who knows how that night would have ended.