Stranger on A Bus 2

If You Want Love

I once watched a young man at a bus park lose his mind over a stranger’s kindness. It was one of those chaotic Lagos afternoons. Horns blaring, hawkers shouting, buses loading with people trying to get home before nightfall. He stood by the curb, sweating, frustrated, and visibly stranded. His wallet had just been stolen. I remember the way he kept pacing and muttering, “God, what will I do now?”

Then this elderly man who had been quietly watching from a bench, got up, walked over, and slipped something into his palm. A few naira notes. Nothing grand. But the look on that young man’s face, I can’t forget it. He froze, blinked twice, and suddenly broke into tears right there in public. The old man just smiled, patted his shoulder, and walked away without saying a word.

You could see it dawn on him: love still exists. Kindness still lives in people. Men still mount.
And it made me think: why are we always surprised by kindness, as if it’s a miracle? Shouldn’t it be normal?

“Love is patient, kind, bla bla bla.”
We’ve all heard it before. We love how it sounds. We quote it at weddings and post it under romantic photos.

But if we’re being honest, when we think about love, we mostly think about what we can get from it. How others should treat us, care for us, be patient with us. Rarely do we stop to ask if we’ve been that kind of person, too.

“Why is it so hard?”
“Why can’t people just love me without me having to try?”
“Why can’t anyone just be kind and not expect anything in return?”

We say those things, forgetting that love isn’t built on entitlement. It’s an action word.

There are two kinds of people I’ve noticed.

The first group is those who never do anything for anyone unless there’s something to gain. Everything must come with a return. It’s a transactional existence. But some of the most beautiful moments in life happen when we help people who have absolutely nothing to offer us in return.

I remember one time in 2013. I was stranded at a park in Enugu after some petty swindlers tricked me and took almost everything I had on my way back from Imo State, where I’d gone to write my Post-UTME. It was my fault sha — I was drawn to them by my own greed. There was this spin-and-win stand offering a chance to win a Blackberry phone, and I thought, “Why not?” Well, I lost.

That hot afternoon, I stood there alone, tired, hungry, and broke. Then a lady I’d never met before noticed me. She walked up, asked what happened, and after I told her, she quietly reached into her bag and gave me money for transport home. That single act changed how I saw people. She didn’t know me, didn’t expect anything. She just gave.

That’s love in its simplest form. Giving without expecting. Helping because you can. Sometimes your reward isn’t here. It’s in heaven. And I promise you, this is a real thing.

Then there’s the second group.

The ones who feel everyone owes them something. Let me explain with a story.

There was once a little boy, about two years old. His mother adored him and bought him everything—snacks, toys, all of it. One day, she gave him some biscuits, and he began munching happily. Moments later, she came back and said, “Sweetheart, give mommy one biscuit, please. Mommy is hungry.”

He held the biscuits tighter. “No, it’s mine,” he said. She smiled and moved closer, and he quickly hid them behind him to protect his treasure. What he didn’t know, was that their dog was lying under the bed. The dog, thinking the hidden biscuit was for him, snatched it right out of his hand. The boy burst into tears, crying for the same mom he’d just refused to share with, to give him another.

Childish, right? But that’s how we often act. We hoard love. We guard kindness. We withhold grace. Then we wonder why our lives feel empty.

You reap what you sow.

So, if you want love, you have to plant it in someone else’s life. If you want kindness, give it when no one’s watching. If you want patience, be patient first. Life isn’t a wishing well where you drop your desires and walk away—it’s a garden. And gardens only bloom when you water them.

Love isn’t fairy dust that falls from the sky. It’s a seed, and it only grows in selfless soil. You must water it with forgiveness, nourish it with consistency, and protect it from pride.

Even God, the author of love itself, as in Oyigiyigi, didn’t wait to be loved before He gave it. He gave first. “While we were yet sinners…” That’s the blueprint. Love moves first. Kindness moves first. Forgiveness releases first.

It’s not always easy. I know. Being the first to love feels risky. You might get hurt. You might be misunderstood. But every time you choose to love in a world that teaches you to protect your heart, you become light. You become a well that never runs dry.

Because love given freely always finds its way back, and sometimes it’s not from where you gave it, but always in the measure you gave, and even way more.

So maybe the question isn’t “Why doesn’t anyone love me?”
Maybe the question is “When was the last time I loved someone without condition?”

Because life will always return what you plant.
If you sow bitterness, you’ll live in thorns.
But if you sow love—pure, patient, selfless love—you’ll one day look around and realize you’re standing in a garden you grew with your own hands.

You will be surrounded by good people. Your people.

So again, if you want love, you’d have to give some away. Today.