FICTION ||Ebenezer Mowete: OLE

Penned in Rage Journal, Amplifying Marginalized Voices

Ngozi squeezed herself further into the back of the yellow *Molue, the Lagos air thick and sluggish against her damp skin. Beside her, a woman with a headwrap  the colour of ripe mango nursed a whimpering baby. In front of her, two men argued in raspy voices, their hands clenched into fists that rested on their knees. The air vibrated with the competing sounds of the Molue's groaning engine, the conductor's rhythmic shouts of "Oshodi! Oshodi!" and the noise of street life filtering through the grime-coated windows.

 Ngozi clutched her worn leather bag, the tattered receipt for her rent payment tucked safely inside. Relief, battled with a rising tide of anxiety. The traffic, as always, was a monstrous beast, barely inching forward on the choked Ikorodu Road. She glanced at her wristwatch, the cheap metal digging into her skin. Ten minutes to four. If she didn't get to Lady Sharon before the rent was late again, the threats of eviction would escalate.

A commotion began at the front of the Molue. A young man, no older than nineteen, his face flushed with anger, shoved past the arguing men. He wore a faded Arsenal jersey, the dirt mirroring the streaks of sweat staining his brow. In his hand, he clutched a dented phone, the screen fractured like a spiderweb.

"Ole! Thief!" he roared; his voice laced with a desperate edge. All eyes turned towards him, a collective intake of breath rippling through the passengers. The conductor, a burly man with a shaved head, materialized at the commotion.

  "Wetin happen?" he barked; his voice heavy with authority.

The young man, his chest heaving, pointed a shaky finger at a middle-aged woman seated opposite Ngozi. The woman, adorned in expensive-looking coral beads, met his gaze with feigned innocence. Her manicured nails tapped a nervous rhythm against her handbag.

 "Na that woman!" the young man accused, his voice cracking. "She snatch my phone for inside Oshodi underbridge!"

A murmur of disbelief rose from the passengers. The woman scoffed; her lips pursed in a haughty frown.

"Me? Steal? You must be joking," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "See how you dress like a vagabond, na so una dey accuse innocent people."

The young man's face contorted in fury. He lunged towards the woman, but the conductor, quick as a mongoose, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

"Hold your ground, small boy!" the conductor shouted. "No fight for inside my bus."

The young man struggled, his voice croaky with frustration. "But she stole my phone! That's all I have!"

Ngozi watched the scene, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach. The Molue lurched forward, the sudden movement throwing the passengers off balance. In the chaos, the woman with the coral beads made a split-second decision. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she tossed a small object onto the floor of the Molue, right where Ngozi's feet were resting.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. It was a phone – the young man's phone, its cracked screen glinting accusingly. The woman met Ngozi's startled gaze, a flicker of something similar to triumph passing between them before her face resumed its mask of innocence.

Ngozi's mind raced. The truth, as thick and suffocating as the Lagos heat. The young man's frustration, the woman's practiced ease. Yet, here she was, caught in the middle with a burden on her conscience.

She looked at the young man, his face crumpling with despair. Then, at the woman with the coral beads, her gaze cold and calculating.  A decision, heavy and difficult, settled in Ngozi's gut. She knew what she had to do.

Glossary

Molue: A large yellow bus used for public transportation in Lagos, Nigeria. Often overcrowded and known for their boisterous atmosphere.Oshodi: A major bus terminal in Lagos, Nigeria.Ole!: Thief! (Yoruba language)

About Writer

Dr. Ebenezer Mowete is a Nigerian writer, medical doctor, and communications

professional whose work spans literary fiction, long-form journalism, essays, and editorial writing. His writing explores culture, identity, faith, medicine, and the lived experiences of ordinary people with depth and nuance. His work has been published in The Republic, Lost Art, Tint Journal, FAMSA SCOPA, Red Rose Thorns Journal, and Oozezi Creative Collective, among other platforms. His fiction, essays, and criticism have received recognition in literary competitions and anthologies, and he has been nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology. Alongside his literary work, Dr. Mowete is passionate about editorial development, mentoring writers, and building thoughtful literary communities. He currently practises in the field of Paediatrics.

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This Piece Was Read by Bridgette James

"This story is very well imbued with Kinaesthetic imagery.