Personal Narrative Essay: Big Truck, Art And Fear

Big Truck, Art and Fear

Travelling is my hobby, it’s been my hobby since childhood, each city I had visited had a story showed a uniqueness, I love meeting new environment, the new smell of new places. The northern part of Nigeria smell and the south had had this smell wasn’t just excited about the place I was going but also often the discoveries I made along the way

My journey usually had a story, trees moving pass, cars and buses stopping over at road blocks for police security checks, the herbal drug trader that barges into the bus to sell his all-in-one drugs, a drug that cures all form of illness, then the bus preacher with a long moment of prayer, covering every part of the bus with the precious blood of Jesus, even the spare tyres

These trucks deal with most of the freight haulage and passenger transport

Suddenly our driver recklessly tried to halt avoiding the car that just summersaulted right in front of ours. Our car swayed into the bush nearby. The horrified bus passengers screamed Jesus as they jerked forward to the inertia call, all the passengers sleeping were all called awake by this sudden stop. Our car managed to come to a halt with no scratch.

The driver came down, as well as other passengers, everyone kept reminding each other of the preacher's prayer. We all came down from the bus, from afar I could see a bus sandwiched in between a truck, it was the trailer that drove pass our bus, the cows now in a pool of blood on the hot bitumen tarred road, the scene was close to what I have seen in Nigeria home videos that depicts a voodoo scene.

People all came down trying to save the dying passengers, I could see a lifeless baby in a pool of blood too, that was the first time I saw a dead body, my mum tried to cover my face as she took me back to the bus from seeing what I already saw, I could recalled the truck driver lying lifeless in a pool of