The day I almost lost an eye…
I could have been a one-eyed pirate... but I'm not, and here's why...
Note: Whenever I write a story, there’s always a trigger, or a reason, which I’ll explain at the end of the gist.
I went to university in the same town I grew up in. So when I was in year one, every Friday evening, like a ritual, I’d hop on a bus and head home. By Sunday evening, I’d be back at school, refreshed in two ways: my sanity (a little) and my pocket (enough to survive another week).
The ride home was short, twenty minutes on a good day, forty minutes if traffic or pure wickedness was on the road.
Now… if you’ve ever taken a bus in my old town, you know the front seat is where destinies are decided and legends are made. There were three seats in front: one for the driver, two for passengers.
The passenger seat by the door is heaven, and the one in the middle is hell. So, the usual code is simple: when a second passenger comes to join you in front, the boss thing to do is to step out, let them climb into the middle, and then hop back into your comfortable odogwu position by the door.
Let’s just say… If you manage to snatch that door seat, you’ve made it in life, at least for the length of that bus ride.
On this fateful Friday evening, I was the first to get to the bus. I claimed the front seat by the door, settling in like the chairman of transport affairs. The driver’s radio was coughing out some old Fuji tune through these half-dead speakers, while he shouted at the top of his lungs to lure more passengers.
Gradually, the bus filled up behind me. Most people would naturally avoid the front seat if one person is already there because they don’t want to be trapped in the middle. Then, out of nowhere, this guy approached the door.
In a split second, I had to decide: should I maintain my odogwu status and make him sit in the middle, or should I play it humble and shift?
One look at his face answered the question. Strong face. The type of face that looked like it had fought a dragon before and won. His whole vibe screamed, “I don’t have time for bullshit”.
I didn’t want problems. So I surrendered my throne, slid into the middle, and sat there like a pretty little sad boy.
The bus rolled out. My head buried in my Itel phone while I scrolled through whatever, pretending the middle seat wasn’t the worst place on earth.
As we drove out of the school gate and turned left towards Mayfair (a popular area in town), we had barely driven three minutes on that straight road when I heard, “Ye ye gbaaaaa!!!”
My head slammed forward and bounced back. It was a quick 2-second event. I looked up. The bus had swerved into the bush. The windscreen vanished. Glass everywhere. And blood dripping down my face.
I turned left: the driver was stuck, wrestling with the door.
I turned right: Strong Face was screaming. A jagged tree branch had smashed through the window and was sticking out of his eye like some horror movie prop. Blood poured down his face in a way that made me grab my own eye, as if checking mine were still there. For a moment, I thought, that could’ve been me.
I freaked out.
Then I realised… the only way out was to climb up front through the windshield. Something something something, I scrambled out through the front, over the bus, and tumbled down the side.
In seconds, people had gathered.
Against everyone’s advice to stay put, I flagged down an okada (bike), and asked him to take me home. The bike man handed me a rag to press against the wound on my head. I’m almost certain it was the same rag he used to shine his rusty seat, but I didn’t care.
When I got home, my dad, normally the ‘hard guy’, froze. It was the first time I saw worry on his face. Soon we were at the hospital. I got stitches and endured the worst headache of my life over the few days that followed. By Monday morning, I was back in school with plaster on my head like it was a badge of survival.
I’ll stop the story there.
So what’s the point of all these?
I just finished reading the first chapter of the book → Same As Ever by Morgan Housel. And it reminded me of that bus ride. How a decision as small as “do I sit by the door or move to the middle?” can literally decide whether you live the rest of your life as a one-eyed pirate or not.
According to the book: We mostly stress about the big decisions: what job to take, which country to move to, whether to invest in crypto, but it’s usually the tiny, forgettable decisions that have the biggest impact.
That Friday evening, I thought I lost comfort. But maybe I saved my eye.
To be honest, I don’t even know if that guy actually lost his. I just assumed. Because… an eye with a tree branch poking out of it isn’t really the easiest to save.
And while writing this, I asked Mimie, if she would have dated me if I was one-eyed. She didn’t even blink before saying, “No!”.
And that, is how small forgettable decisions truly shape destiny.
