As we arrived at the Brass jetty, we joined the queue to purchase our tickets
alongside other passengers. Outside the small office, vibrant hawkers displayed
their wares, offering enticing treats like hot jollof rice, Isam, crayfish, and fresh
fish. The jetty was bustling with activity, lined with cargo boats, speedboats, and
traditional fishing boats paddled by local fishermen heading to their fishing sites.
The scene was breathtakingly beautiful.
Travelers and their relatives, who had escorted them to the jetty, mingled in
clusters, chatting and laughing. After about thirty minutes, the bell rang, signalling
us to gather and collect our life jackets. Although the jackets looked worn out, no
one complained – worn out was better than nothing. We quickly put on our
jackets and prepared for the journey back home.
I had travelled to attend my friend's mother's burial. As we settled into the boat,
ready to begin our journey, the driver started the engine. However, it failed to
respond. After several attempts, the engine roared to life, only to stall again. This
happened about three times, leaving us uncertain about our departure.
This happened about three times, and some passengers began murmuring to
themselves in frustration. I finally spoke up, "Oga, if the boat isn't working
properly, let's change it now." The driver reassured me with a calm tone, "Madam,
no worry, E go carry us go reach"
After fiddling with the engine, it roared back to life, and this time, it didn't stall.
We all breathed a sigh of relief as the journey commenced, bouncing gently on
the waves.
We travelled for about thirty minutes, and just as we were in the middle of the
sea, the engine suddenly went off. My heart sank as I looked around – there was
no other boat in sight, and land was nowhere in view. Water began seeping into
the boat, and we quickly alerted the driver. He managed to cover the leak, but our
relief was short-lived.
Fortunately, another boat appeared on the horizon, and we waved them down.
The driver of the other boat came alongside ours, and together, they worked on
fixing the issue.
"Na the carburetor dey worry" our driver lamented.
Our journey resumed, but after about 20 minutes, the engine stopped once more.
This time, we drifted towards the mangrove trees growing along the sea's edge.
My mind wandered back to the conversation we had the previous night, where
one of the men warned about the aggressive mosquitoes in the area, claiming
they could drill holes in human skin. I silently prayed that the boat would be fixed
quickly, and we could leave this place behind as soon as possible.
As expected, the driver tinkered with the engine, and it eventually roared back to
life. We set off again, with everyone whispering a quiet prayer that the ordeal
would not repeat itself. However, just as we navigated past the Nembe creek, the
boat's speed began to slow down. We all turned to the driver, inquiring about the
problem, and that's when we discovered yet another issue...
"Fuel don finish" the driver announced, leaving me perplexed. How could he drive
without any reserve fuel? Where would we even find fuel in the middle of the
sea? And who would come to our rescue now? These questions swirled in my
head as the engine finally sputtered to a halt about ten minutes later.
Boats zoomed past, signalling to us to determine what was wrong. 'Fuel!' we
chorused in unison, but none of the passing boats had any to spare. The driver
resorted to paddling the boat, a surreal shift from a speedy vessel to a slow,
manual pace. I couldn't help but whisper to myself, 'From speedboat to canoe,'
and giggled at the absurdity.
After what felt like an eternity, the driver received a signal on his phone and
managed to call for help. Someone brought fuel, and after what seemed like
forever, the precious commodity finally arrived. The driver poured it in, and the
engine roared back to life. We finally reached Nembe jetty, three hours after our
journey should have taken.
It was a day I would not soon forget – a memorable adventure that started with a
speedboat and, at one point, felt like a canoe ride. The experience was a mix of
frustration, relief, and humour, leaving a lasting impression.
