"This dem railway no go come again". grumbled a tired - looking guy.

The contempt in his voice instantly attracted attention. The lad's face was hard and sweaty. Boredom and anger enveloped his forehead. He hissed irritatingly and spat a whitish jelly - like substance which landed a little distance away on the railway track. The young boy soliloquised again, this time in Yoruba language. "Iru ilu radarada wo ni yi".

The aggrieved student was only one among a multitude of travellers and their companions who thad been waiting for the Kano - bound train to arrive Ibadan Railway Station from Lagos. They had been expecting the train for over nine hours and all sorts of rumours had been making the rounds why the delay. But Railway officials at Ibadan station did not say more than, "the train will soon come".

This was not the only occasion train travelers in this part of the globe would be experiencing the train running behind schedule. In fact, regular train users knew too well that the train seemed to have ceased to follow any time schedule and the scheduled movements on display at Railway Stations had come to be seen as mere formality.

So, this sunny Friday afternoon, Ibadan Railway Station was a beehive of activities, jam - packed by frustrated travelers, made up of students on holidays, traders and of course, a sizeable number of filthy beggars. The arrival and departure halls held double their capabilities and so was the spacious platform between the rail lines and the terminal building. People and their hand luggage were all over the place. There was a hungry lot, shouting on the top of their voices over a low fence at the other side of the tracks, struggling with one another to buy food. As if the crowd was not enough, people continues to join a long queue in front of the ticket box at the terminal building. These new arrivals were congratulating themselves on their good luck for not missing the Kano - bound train. If they had missed that day, the next train to Kano would be in the next 48 hours..a whole two days, and so they had good course to be happy and thank their stars.

The fuming student lifted a bag on which was written in white paint against the red colour of the bag, "Taye Oluwole, Acada Heights, Ado-Ekiti"; he hung the bag on his left shoulder and wandered off to where some railway officials congregated. He soon knew it was the weighing section. Some of the rail men were dressed in khaki shirts and shorts, black fez caps and black boots. Taye watched the activities in the weighing section for about ten minutes. He waited that long to really convince himself beyond all doubts that what his eyes, ears and brain were witnessing was real.

Taye saw how some touts would approach passengers with sizeable bags and baggage and help them put the loads on a gargantuan scale. But instead of paying the normal fee, they greased the palms of the officials. This way, the bulk of money that would have been made by the government was being diverted to the pockets of unscrupulous government workers and their cohorts. While all these were going on, Taye's anger burst, "Oga, are we sleeping here again today? The question was deliberately made rude to embarrass the "loco" men. When they did not reply to this provocative question, he hauled more insults at the corrupt officials, spoiling for a confrontation.

A woman who was breast-feeding her baby nearby pleaded with the aggrieved boy to calm down. Taye saw her point, thanked her and left the weighing bay.

Taye went to a kiosk across the fence to cool off with a bottle of soft drink. This was to be his third bottle since the long wait for the Kano-bound train began at the Ibadan Station. He began to turn over in his mind the events of the past few days as he sipped the cold drink. He was bored, irritated and angry at the delay. Yet, beneath his irritation he was thirsting for the excitement that awaited him at home.

The school had vacated earlier that day and the thought of the eve of holidays, particularly end of the year holiday overwhelmed him. Thursday - night-fever was the name given to the eve of end-of-year vacation in Taye's school. It was a day all students in the school look forward to even from the very first day of each school term. It was the night when final packing was done. It was the day when everyone was his brother's keeper. Even the tight - fisted ones would throw open the doors of their lockers and boxes for the remaining provisions and foodstuff, otherwise called "extra food", to be given out freely. It was a night all burnt the proverbial midnight oil. The midnight oil was however not burnt to swot but to gist in the euphoria of the Thursday night fpever. Every student's anxiety for the morrow when regimented living would terminate was freely expressed throughout that night. It was a night full of noise from virtually all the dormitories without reprimands from any quarters; noise of nostalgic songs and noise from the clatter of lockers being emptied and boxes being loaded and slammed.

And this year's end of school calendar was not different. Taye could hardly wait for the dawn of Friday because he woke up twice between 3 a.m when he finally dozed off and the 6 a.m rising bell. Taye was particularly anxious to go home because he wanted to go and call his father's bluff. Chief J.T Oluwole, Taye's old man" as he fondly referred to his father who had promised him his first suit if he passed into the "finalist class" among the best three in the class. Taye had played less, worked harder and as he was going home he had in his bag, first prizes in five subjects including the sciences as well as Mathematics and English language, the two compulsory subjects in the West African School Certificate. Taye's Class master had even invited Taye to personally congratulate him on his outstanding performance. The gesture gave Taye the hint that he had been able to beat Mike

and Akin, his two arch rivals, to the enviable first position.

So, he was hurrying home to his family with all confidence and happiness. But happiness was far from him now, having waited for over ten hours for the Kano-bound train at Ibadan station, without any concrete

information as to why this much delay.

Taye then switched back his thoughts to the events at school before the vacation. On ordinary Friday mornings, the food on the mean time table was pap and four tiny balls of bean-cakes, the size of pigeon eggs. Ninety nine per cent of the school population loathed this menu. But on this Friday, when the school would break for seven whole weeks, "double decker" was served. "Double Decker" was the appellation given to a meal of rice and beans a darling of every student.

The aluminum bowl Taye picked as his ration that morning was almost full to the brim and the piece of meat was quite enormous. He gazed across the table at Benbella, a notorious double ration eater. Benbella winked, giving a sign that all was well with him. "One ration would do today", Benbella even signaled, raising a finger. Even during founder's day feasts, the meal was usually not as big and delicious as what Taye ate as breakfast at this end of the year. The meal over, students trooped into the chapel for the last assembly of the year. The Principal, as if he too was anxious to go on holidays, dispensed with the business at hand quickly and gave way to the chaplain for the valedictory service.

At exactly 9 a.m. students fell out of the assembly hall humming the age - long, benediction, "God be with you will we meet again...". A greater

percentage of the school population knew off hand both the wordings of the song as well as the hymn number in the Songs of Praise (SOP) hymn book. It's also a popular song in the Hymns Ancient and Modern hymn book.

Taye dashed to his room, nearly tore his school uniform, in the hurry to remove it. He squeezed the blue check jumper and grey shorts into the middle layer of his locker, slammed the door and clicked the padlock. In a twinkling of an eye, Taye was out of the dormitory, his bag on his shoulders, combing his hair as he hurried along. He now wore a white long-sleeved shirt over a pair of white trousers, his Sunday best.

Hassan, a classmate of Taye yelled at him to wait for him since they were both traveling up North. Taye shouted back that Hassan should hurry up.

"l want to be among the first batch to be on the bus". He was referring to the commercial bus that had been previously arranged to convey students to Ibadan.

As Taye wished, he was amongst the first batch of students to leave the school compound apart from the privileged students for whom cars were sent from home to pick them up from school. He had envied these students when he was in the junior classes. But, it was after he had a few lifts in these cars and he compared it with traveling in a commercial bus with many students that Taye saw that these privileged students were actually missing a lot of fun. In the commercial buses it was fun and laughter all the way from the beginning to the end of the journey as students took turns to entertain so to say. Taye preferred to always secure a place on the chartered buses meant to convey students on holiday from their school compound rather than to curry the favour of one of the well-to-do students for a lift. It was in those buses chartered

by them that one would hear various versions of grapevine jokes and nicknames of notorious students and teachers. Many secrets were usually blown open in such situations.

Taye sat next to the driver in front while Hassan sat towards the rear of the bus. Taye turned round and saw Hassan. They nodded to each other. The journey between Ado-Ekiti and Ibadan lasted some two and half hours but it seemed like a mere thirty minute trip. As expected, it was laugher all the way.

Taye and Hassan had arrived at the Railway station to learn that the Kano-bound train was still expected. Taye realized that it was about ten hours now, as his thoughts continue to wander.

He suddenly jolted out of day-dreaming and looked at his digital watch. Because it was already dark, he had to press the light button to illuminate the tiny face of his watch. It showed 19.46. Taye mentally subtracted 12 and got 17.46 p.m. He emptied the bottle of drink down his throat and returned the bottle. Taye glanced round and saw Hassan laughing heartily amongst some students under a lamp post a little distance in front of the station building. He joined

them but was only physically present; his thoughts were with his family at home. He was home-sick thinking about everybody at home. The new born baby boy, Akinbola, whom he was told in his father's letter, was born on Taye's birthday. His other two younger brothers and the only girl in the family, his twin sister, Kehinde, all would be expecting him at home in Kaduna. He felt bad about the delay of the train and his anxiety to have a re-union with his family grew bigger.

Suddenly, a distant blast of a horn rent the air. The message was clear-the train was around the corner. A uniformed railway operative with flags in his hands began to clear people off the tracks. Nursing mothers hurriedly tied their babies on their backs. And the wagons appeared in the distance gliding in rather shamelessly in triumph. The engine wagon came smoking and hooting as it led twenty-four other coaches into the Ibadan station, a little over ten and a half hours behind schedule.