The height of civilisation

I was on the bus to school a couple of days ago. As the bus approached a stop, I spotted two old ladies waiting, looking expectantly toward the bus as it chugged toward them. That, apparently, was the bus they were waiting to catch. As is the norm here, they patiently waited for those alighting from the bus to do so before attempting to get on. (Anybody familiar with the scene of crowds rushing to enter a still-moving yellow-and-black striped minibus, while half of the passengers inside struggle to get off amidst the mayhem?) Anyway, the ladies must not have been familiar with the route, because they paused to clarify their direction with the driver. It turned out they had the wrong bus, and in a brief exchange that lasted less than sixty seconds, a hundred and one things came into focus for me.

I was sitting somewhere in the middle of the long bus, so I couldn't quite catch every word of the conversation up front. However, I didn't need to hear it to know that it was a pleasant one indeed. A very polite one. The driver patiently, in a normal tone of voice, explained to the ladies that this was not their bus, and gave them detailed directions to where they would catch the correct bus. The ladies obviously appreciated the time and effort he took to help them out, and they were literally smiling their thanks to him. As they got off the bus and went on their way, they turned back to wave more thanks to the driver. Overall, the whole episode made a very positive impression on me.

Instantly I recollected my experiences with danfoe drivers (those with the yellow-and-black striped minibuses) in Lagos, Nigeria. Being an experienced danfoe passenger, I have witnessed all sorts. Shouting matches between driver and passenger; insult-hurling between driver and conductor; fits of argument between conductor and passenger; heated brawling between passenger and passenger; the works. Sitting there on the bus 17 to Nottingham City, my mind reconstructed the incident I had just witnessed between a danfoe driver and any two people looking for the bus to Shangisha under the sweltering Lagos sun. Sweating profusely beneath the merciless heat and tired from wandering aimlessly round the bus park, they would eventually sum up the courage to ask the nearest danfoe driver/conductor for directions - not very politely, I might add. Of course, the reaction from the driver/conductor will vary from person to person, depending on a range of factors. For the purpose of illustration I'm just going to paint pictures of the possible best case and worst case scenarios.

Best case: The driver sizes up the two wanderers, his face void of all expression. Then, deciding that he can spare them some of his precious time and breath, he lazily points the way to them. The two manage a 'thank you' between them; at least they got off relatively easy. Worst case: The conductor reluctantly breaks off the noisy conversation he's been having with the conductor of the next bus to listen to the wanderers' tale. It's not quite clear if he's really paying attention to what they're asking, or if he just wants to dismiss them as quickly as possible so he can carry on his idle conversation. He flippantly, somewhat rudely, tells the wanderers he has no idea where the bus going to Shangisha might be 'loading', and promptly turns away to continue with his very important conversation. The wanderers take the hint and walk off, wondering if asking the groundnut seller hawking her wares between buses might yield better results. Of course, saying thank you to the conductor is not even an option in this case.

My heart has often bled at the way we treat ourselves in Nigeria, our motherlan'. The general unspoken rule seems to be that you don't have to treat with respect people you don't know. I see this rule played out almost everywhere I go: on the danfoe bus; in the cornershop across the road from my house; in the banking hall of 'customer-friendly' banks; everywhere. In my opinion, most of us have little or no regard for the 'human-ness' of others. Respect doesn't start and stop at calling your next-door neighbour 'Aunty Caro' or 'Uncle Joe', just because they're a couple of years older than you are. After all, what's the point in making a statement like, 'Aunty Caro, your head no correct'? You get my point.

Respect transcends age barriers, class, status, job description, family ties, relationships. Respect at its highest level reckons with everybody it comes across, just because people are who they are. When you can treat an absolute stranger with the same level of dignity you accord your best friend, then you have respect. When citizens of a country can break past all barriers to reckon with one another and treat each other politely and respectfully, that country is on the road to deliverance. Naturally, the country I have in mind as I speak is none other than Nigeria.

My submission is this: the sign of a country's civilisation is not in her wealth, her fame, her military might or even the degree of technological advancement she can boast of. In my observation, the true sign of a country's civilisation is the politeness, or mutual respect, shown by one citizen to another. That is what gives meaning and dignity to our fragile human existence. It is the antidote to the apathy that preys on our national consciousness and strips us of our collective identity. It is the ultimate sign of any country's coming of age, the very height of any people's civilisation. It is spelt R-E-S-P-E-C-T.