by Ifeanyi Dike Jr

 

‘I did not save your life and frankly, I think you are a pshyco. I don’t like you and I don’t like what you are proposing’ I said, as I wore my sunglasses and walked off.

It is almost impossible to find Nigerians at airport check-in without heaps of luggage – and why not? Shopping is after all the foremost reason we travel abroad. If you come from a family like mine for example – God forbid – you have nothing to show for your trip on arrival. Everyone, including the helps daughter, Tima would have sent you a ‘To get’ list.  Or like my mother, check in seven bags of pots and pans, blenders and toasters. I, for one, am always finding ways to escape exceeding the permitted baggage weight because not telling anyone I’m travelling is never an effective solution.

This time however, I was seemingly destined for excess luggage fees. Having bought shoes for the entire extended family – of course, there was no escaping. I unpacked and repacked, arranged and rearranged, still I was a man-bag and a few kilograms overweight.

I schemed and plotted; lied about why I had to take my grandmother’s basket as it was her last wish and I desperately had to take it despite having already exceeded my luggage allowance (she would not be proud). Still, I was left with a bunch of clothes, accessories and underwear that I could perhaps send back to my London house. Then it came to me, an ingenious idea inspired by a woman on my last trip to Spain. She was quite overweight and I overheard the airline had insisted she paid excess luggage based on her weight. So I ran into the bathroom and wore everything I could. For the first time in England winter, I broke a sweat. I had on 6 pants, 3 t-shirts and 3 jackets, sunglasses popping out of every pocket and a bunch of irrelevances under a straw hat I was wearing.

As an actor on a hit TV show, I was quite embarrassed, frightened that some fan would recognize me and maybe, engage me in a conversation. Once I got on the plane however, attempts to take off all the excess clothing were dreadful. If I took them off and suddenly looked lighter while carrying a rolled up ball of clothes along the aisle, people would tremble in suspicion that I had just gone to detonate a bomb. But they had bigger problems you see.

The seat belt sign came on, followed by the captain’s announcement of difficulties-in-landing, and followed quickly by turbulence. The only other time I had experienced turbulence of this sort was the one time I took a molue ride from Ipaja to Oshodi for the heck of it. The plane tumbled like Humpty Dumpty would have before he had a great fall. And following the recent plane crash, tensions flared as I imagined it would when some of us are left behind after rapture. Questions like ‘is this it’ would suffice and wails would nearly saturate air.

I was scared but calm, just in case someone thought it was the best time to approach me for an autograph; I had to look my best even in the face of disaster. Panic in the plane was quickly in full cry. People were making supplications to God in diverse tongues. Others invoked the presence of their gods. The heavy set woman by my left was particularly squeaky. The man behind me minted such Biblical jewels I had only read about in the Old Testament.

Now, the girl by my right was rather fearless whether she smelled of peanuts and desperation or not. She had engaged me in awkward eye contact all morning. Then she took advantage of the turbulence to express herself.

‘My name’s Cleo. You are very cute’ she said. Imagine her guts amidst commotion. ‘Please hold my hand. In case anything happens and we don’t make it out, my last wish is that you hold my hand’

As stunned as I was, there are moments in life that define who you are as a person and this was one of them, so I held her hand and said ‘Everything will be fine’.

Thankfully, the pilot was able to land us safely. The passengers clapped like they had just seen an electrifying scene from The Avengers. They praised and worshiped, and were in fact close to starting a prayer and fasting session.

When we got off, Cleo asked for my number ‘I want to keep in touch because you saved my life’. This sham and dissociation from reality was too shocking.

‘I did not save your life and frankly, I think you are a pshyco. I don’t like you and I don’t like what you are proposing’ I said, as I wore my sunglasses and walked off.