Femi Akintunde-Johnson
… As I was saying…
On that Thursday in mid May of 2023, we had to go through a complex of stairs and – incredibly – escalators! While some, frigid with fear of the new and clean escalators, opted to walk up and down the several stairs, we joined the excited crowd of ‘escalatees’ to trip up on one leg, and down on the other side of the ramp. We later found out that the majority of the fairly large contingent of passengers were for the ‘Standard Class’, when we were asked to move to different sides of the boarding platform. I suspect only one or two persons had first class tickets, if any. The rest of us for the Business Class numbered about a dozen. That worried the business side of my being – as we were confronted with a disturbing mix of a humongous investment, and parlous patronage.
From the little research conducted, the trains are often half empty – or worse – to and from Ibadan. One coach, I believe a 2020 report claimed, is reserved for First Class, two for Business Class, and the rest for Standard. I might have counted eight coaches that day, apart from the lead driving compartment shaped like a bullet. The exterior of the train looked like something that has only been in use for two or three years, but inelegantly covered completely by Indomie promotional branding materials – well, the corporation should be encouraged to have different streams of income.
In comparison, the 2023 train coaches make the 1983 wagons look like something rescued from a 100-year old Hollywood studio junkyard. Thank God for advancement. Inside the coaches is another harsh reminder of how much we have suffered in this country. The air-conditioning was frighteningly unreal. I had not adequately prepared for the fuselage of cold air in the coach we entered (according to our ticket with seat numbers C6-27 and -28). It was unreal – the coldness that is. Appeal for the air-conditioning to be toned down a little was met politely with “sorry, it’s on auto…it can’t be adjusted for now”. Well, that gave a little hope that the “air-attack” could be reduced sometime along the way. Little mercy.
The seats on either side of the aisle were in pairs, and covered in neat green coverlets. Half of the rows of seats are facing one way, as in a plane, and the other half facing the other way – with two lounge tables in the middle section of the coach. From the online pictures, I suspect the First class has more leg room, with three rows of seats, instead of four for the Business Class, and five for the Standard Class. Obviously, the latter coach would have less legroom or aisle space for ease of movement, and the drop-back mini dining “tabletops” at the back of each seat in the Business Class may be absent.
The baggage sections atop the passenger seats are sturdy and wide enough to contain a 25kg suitcase in girth for each passenger – and it is likely the same in all coaches. However, while most of it was empty of any serious “load” on our side, I could imagine the slight discomfort carriers of large packages would cause those with modest luggage jostling for the same space. Though the online instruction prohibits any load heavier than 25kg without surcharge, I didn’t notice any weighing section to ascertain load weights as it is common at our airports.
Juxtaposed with our 1983 experience, this was a breeze in the park. Forty years ago, most of us would have to climb through bales of goods and luggage heaped along the aisles – as the usual baggage compartments were grossly inadequate to accommodate them. Torn between avoiding the clanging sticks of beggars and drifters trying to avoid ticketing officers checking for defaulters, we found ways to distract ourselves and kill boredom. One good thing about 1983 was the total absence of the fear of insecurity, and therefore no sign of armed or unarmed security details watching over the travellers. The reality of 2023 is the not-too-covert presence of armed guards in mufti, and paramilitary personnel, providing understated assurances of some sort of in-bound security coverage.
One of my major disappointments with the new train is the speed of movement. Though we arrived about two hours and ten minutes at Omi-Adio (Samuel Ladoke Akintola Station), the penultimate stop in Ibadan, the speed of the train is barely faster than its 1983 locomotive ‘counterparts’, apart from the much less deafening cacophony of zigzagging clashes of iron against iron, and other dissenting crackles. The new coaches move at similar speed to former darlings of Lagos roads, the “Molues”, with intermittent swishes and mild hissing as we undulate faintly over the refurbished rail infrastructure. Its promptness at train stops, and businesslike steady movement, without needless stoppages, helped in dousing my irritation that one had incorrectly imagined some sort of speed train – after all, it is shaped like a bullet!
Another disappointing point is the absence of any catering or even confectionery services enroute. How on earth would a business class coach not have food to sell to its patrons? Not even a bottle of “mineral water” as they call it on Lagos roads. Of course, we saw a wine bar in the foreground of the coach with a few people sipping what appeared like water! Enquiries about food or snacks of any sort met with bemused shaking of the heads! Who says you can’t be famished on a two-hour journey…?
In 1983, though the corporation did not have official food services, the passengers didn’t even notice, as we could buy all sorts of stuff on the numerous stops along the way, and there were full scale mobile “Mama Puts” with the capacity to satisfy cravings for all sorts of food. Sometimes, for interminable periods, and without a hint of information, the train would stop for hours in some “wilderness”, and commuters would saunter around some remote villages for food or some distracting fun…until the prolonged and piercing honk of the train’s horns would cause a mini stampede to hop back on the train. Some ‘hell’ can be fun “sha”!
(To Continue)
