It was one of those Monday mornings when harmattan paints Lagos in a pale grey mist, dust swirling like spirits dancing on the tar. The air was thick, gritty, and cold, proof that the heavens had kissed the streets once again.
I found myself back inside a Danfo after what felt like a lifetime. And not just any bus ride, this was the real Lagos express. My street sense snapped back like muscle memory. I felt alive again. Lagosian mode: activated.
Hoodie up. Backpack strapped. Elbows brushing strangers. Knees knocking. My life was briefly reduced to Naira notes and seat space. The conductor stylishly robbed me of ₦100. I let it go. Growth.
Old me would have started a one-man protest. But this morning? I was too zen.
As the wind slapped my face, I inhaled mouthfuls of dusty air like it was vitamin C. Each gush was oddly refreshing. That’s the thing about Lagos — it roughs you up, then winks at you like, “No vex, na play I dey play.”
Now, let’s talk Danfo.
Bright yellow. Boxy. Loud like your neighbor’s generator. Scratched paint jobs and hand-written wisdoms on the back like: “No Food for Lazy Man”, “God Dey”, “Shine Your Eye”.
Danfo is a vibrant symbol of Lagos life — the iconic minibuses that power the city’s fast-paced transport system, known for bold colors, loud conductors, and agile movement through traffic.
Danfos are more than buses, they’re a cultural experience, and the soul of Lagos in motion. A vibe, a movement, a Lagos anthem on four wheels.
From the moment it swerves beside you, screeches like a distressed banshee, and the conductor hangs halfway out the door yelling: “Oshodi! CMS! Ikejaaa!”, you already know — you’re about to be baptized by the Lagos commute.
Inside the bus? A live podcast of unfiltered Naija life, where strangers become storytellers.
Arguments about Arsenal and Chelsea. Debates on fuel subsidy. Updates on tomato prices. Gossip about Davido’s new house.
All playing over background music from dusty speakers — Wizkid’s Ojuelegba was on repeat, of course. Heads bobbed in quiet agreement. No one talks, yet everyone listens.
Danfo tells a story of everyday hustle, street wisdom, and the relentless pulse of Lagos. With 14–18 passengers squeezed like sardines, the Danfo weaves through traffic like it’s dodging destiny.
The driver? Mad genius.
No traffic rule survives. He sees a jam and invents a new lane. No space? He creates one.
With the audacity of a king and the grace of a breakdancer, he mounts the pavement, overtakes G-Wagons, and parks like he owns the road.
They operate virtually on every major road, connecting the city’s heartbeat — one chaotic, colorful ride at a time.
Danfo is the energy of Lagos. A classroom. A battleground. A prayer altar. And sometimes… a therapy session.
The hustle, bustle, and the never-say-die spirit of a city that never stops moving are all part of its chaotic charm.
And in that wild chaos, I saw myself.
My Danfo driver drives like me…
With anger that has been contained for too long and needs to find expression;
With frustration, at systems that don’t work;
With determination, to win regardless.
With vision, eyes fixed on the road ahead, to overtake, to lead.
My Danfo doesn’t wait. He creates paths. He sees gaps and pushes forward.
He doesn’t fear traffic. He becomes the traffic.
He formed his line, and immediately gained followership.
He pushes and gets to the front of the line.
With a swerve, he becomes the leader of the pack.
A new order. New leader.
That’s my Mainland Danfo driver.
That’s the Lagos I love.
That’s the Lagos that made me.
Right there, sandwiched between two strangers and three thoughts, I caught a revelation.
So when the conductor screamed “Toyotaaaaa!!!”,
I screamed back, “Toyota wa o!” (Don’t ask me why)
Be like the Danfo driver.
Don’t wait for space — create one.
Don’t follow the crowd — lead it.
Don’t slow down — accelerate.
Push. Hustle. Overtake.
And when they say “you no fit,”
Shout “Comot road!” and zoom past.
#EKO
