“I warmly welcome you on board the ship, I am captain Abaju.
I boarded an air conditioned ship-bus from Abuja to Obudu from where I will connect Kakwe Beebo, my home town. The crux of this trip was to felicitate with my kinsmen who were celebrating the the famous Boki new yam festival.
I arrived Obudu safely with my wares glittering as I made my way to the cyclist park from whence I left for Beebo.
During this season of the year, rain is always at crescendo, so it takes a son of the soil to sail through the ever dangerous Beebo road.
At the cyclist park, I sorted for Obi whose prowess in motorcycle riding is known even to the spirits. A ride to Kakwe Beebo on a normal day should not go beyond a thousand naira (1000), but it shucked me to the bone marrows when Obi charged me three thousand naira (3000) as if he was carrying a corp. I protested, yet it was the best bargain I could get.
He contemplated between Lishukwel and Bateriko routes, but I contributed nothing because I knew nothing. Little did I know the heavy downpour earlier in the day that normalized the weather temperature skyrocketed the rivers along Beebo axis. To save time, Obi settled for Bateriko. Not long after the turn from Bateriko to Beebo, we met the first river that greeted us with fear like the red sea. Obi trusted his ‘Chi’ not knowing it will lead to me losing the new shoes I bought from Banex to ‘flex’ while at home.
So as not to repeat the tragedy of the Egyptian Armies at red sea, we made a U-turn and opted for Lishukwel. This axis was not a Smooth ride either as excess water in my luggage ended the life of my new IPhone 8 safely secured under my bags
We got to where used to be known as Kate-Kono market. The once celebrated market was now a shadow of itself.
I knew without being told by a soothsayer that no trader will want to experience this trouble waters for the second time. We got to Kise-Achili to notice the draws in the slope to be worst than Manchester United. Manchester United is a football club in England that has deformed of late leading to several draws. I almost wished I did not made the trip in the first place, but the joy of family reunion wont permit such a bizare thinking.
Who would have fathom that Bending Corner will be like Akwanga hills at this topical moment of our existence, that was were I slept into the bed of mods.
From there to Abija was like the path to hade. I was already gasping for air so I asked for a rest. Obi complied so we rested. After a while, we proceeded on the tortuous journey to Kakwe-Beebo.
At Kakwe, I imagined the ordeal of my Bumaji brothers so I paid them an unscheduled visit just to get firsthand information. Theirs wasn’t an exception either. After me and Ojibikie, the new rider had finished climbing the Osama hill that was longer than Mount Everest, everything about us changed and our motorcycle became wacky. Yet, we kept the good fight of faith.
It was indeed an experience I cant recommend even for my worst enemy, if any” said Ajino.
If we coexist in this 21century where nations are catching the fever of industrialization with nothing to show for, then posterity will frown at us.
The good people of Beebo-Bumaji need good road more than thing else to first of all boost their economic fortunes.
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The tale of Beebo-Bumaji is most pathetic because it is declining and limiting potentials and prospects. Those who have leveraged on their voting strength to electoral victory in the past can still redeem their pledges by protecting their interest were necessary. New alliances can be formed by those poised in bring mankiind out of the claws of underdecelopment.
It is most unfortunate that the plights of these people have remained unnoticed. They cannot cry enough to be heard, but you can give them a shoulder to lean on, you can advocate for them.
They may not be related to you by births but by humanity. Your voice, inputs and contributions can change their narrative for the better. Say something, do something